Maverick Wild. Stacey Kayne

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      “We didn’t mean to startle you so,” the younger man said, his gun now lowered at his side. “Let’s get you out of harm’s way.” He flashed a gentle smile and offered his arm.

      Cora nodded and allowed him to lead her around Wyatt.

      “I sure hate that you were caught in the midst of our quarrel.” Reaching the road, the young man stepped away from her and removed his hat, revealing short cotton-white hair. The dirt on his trousers didn’t go past his knees. “I hope you’ll accept my apologies.”

      “Of course,” she said, forcing a tight smile.

      “Garret!”

      Cora jumped at the harsh shout and spotted the other man standing on the boardwalk across the road.

      “I’s just apologizing to the lady for scaring her half to death,” Garret shouted back.

      The beastly man tugged off his hat. His matted hair was just as dirt-filled as the rest of him. He batted the hat against his thigh, scattering dust and chunks of dried mud. “If she’s looking for formal socials and tea parties, she bes’ get back on the stage. There’s nothing but backstabbers and mudskippers around these parts.”

      He was obviously a mudskipper, Cora thought, watching him shove his hat back onto his crusted hair. His sharp green eyes burned with irritation before he turned and walked into the general store.

      “Don’t mind him,” said Garret. “He’s just havin’ a real bad day. You be careful, now.” He tipped his hat to Cora, then turned and darted across the busy road.

      Cora didn’t waste a moment. She hurried to the livery at the end of the road. Rounding the corner, she was pleased to find a large bay mare hitched to a cart just outside the open double doors. Her trunk had been secured to the back. She tossed her bag onto the seat, then stepped into the shadows of the large stable.

      “Mr. Spud?” she called out.

      “Miss Tindale.” Mr. Spud stepped from a stall. His stringy gray hair poked out in all directions from beneath his battered brown hat. A grin pushed high into his whiskery face. “Don’t you look pretty as a spring daisy,” he said, brushing his hands across the front of his striped shirt as he walked toward her.

      “You’re too kind,” she said, certain the old man’s eyesight must be failing. “May I assume my cart is ready?”

      Mr. Spud’s bushy gray eyebrows pinched. “Didn’t Wyatt find you?”

      “Yes. He’s been detained. As I said earlier, I’m quite capable of handling a cart.”

      “I can’t send you out into those hills by your lonesome. The Morgans won’t—”

      “You’ve given me explicit directions. I can assure you—”

      “Hey, Spud! You in there?”

      Cora tensed, recognizing that strident voice. Not again.

      “Well, speak of the devil,” Mr. Spud said as he peered toward the open double doors, “and he’s bound to surface.”

      Coated with dirt, the man did look as though he’d crawled up out of the earth. Garret walked in behind him. When he spotted her his young face beamed with a smile.

      “What in thunder happened to you?” asked Mr. Spud.

      “Had to pull a few colts from a muddy riverbed. I was told you’ve got the feed stocked up in here. I paid for six bags.”

      “Sure do. Right inside the door there. Help yourself. Now that you’re here, I won’t have to worry about finding the lady an escort.”

      “That’s quite all right,” Cora quickly cut in. “I don’t need an escort.”

      Cold green eyes raked across the length of her. “If you’re headed in our direction—”

      “No. Thank you. I really do not require an escort.”

      His broad shoulders shifted, creating tiny avalanches of dust and dirt. “Your choice.”

      “But that don’t make no sense,” said Mr. Spud. “Not when—”

      “I can manage,” Cora insisted. “Thank you, Mr. Spud. I’ll be on my way.”

      “You heard the lady. Let’s get these loaded, kid.” He turned away and hoisted four large sacks of feed.

      “Nice seeing you again,” Garret said, smiling brightly as he backed toward the open doors carrying the other two bags. “See you next month, Spud.”

      “Uh, Miss Tindale?” Mr. Spud poked his fingers under his hat and scratched at his hair as he squinted at her. “Ain’t you headed to the Morgan place?”

      “I am,” she said, walking toward the cart.

      “Then you ought to change your mind about the escort, seein’ as that there’s one of the Morgans.”

      Cora’s gaze whipped toward the hitching rails outside the stable. “No.” She looked from the nice young man who couldn’t be more than sixteen to his broad-shouldered companion securing bags of feed to the back of a horse. “Are you certain?”

      “Yes, ma’am. He’s either the married one or he ain’t. ’Bout the only time I can tell ’em apart is when Tuck brings his wife along.”

      She thought of the man’s piercing green eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.

      Oh, my goodness. Struck between horror and disbelief, she slowly made her way outside.

      Garret laughed as the Morgan man dunked his head into a trough. He whipped back, spraying water across the sky and revealing golden blond hair. Drops of water trickled down handsome features to his sharp jaw. His head tilted back as he raked his fingers through his hair, and she spotted a tiny scar hidden beneath his chin. A scar she’d given him accidentally.

      Chance.

      Smoothing her hands across the front of her skirt, she continued toward him. She had so wanted to make a good first impression. She stopped a few feet away. Tears stung her eyes, constricting her throat when she would have offered a greeting. She had waited so long.

      “You’re gonna get mighty cold by the time we reach the ranch,” Garret said through his laughter.

      Chance Morgan welcomed a chill, but he doubted it would help. “Trust me, kid, I won’t be cold.”

      “She caught your eye, too, huh?”

      “My eye didn’t catch anything,” he countered, still irritated that he’d been attracted to a pile of fluff and lace. Not his style. It was just as well Her Highness had opted to decline their escort.

      “All that mud must be clogging your vision,” said Garret.

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